Originally I wrote this story on a Ewan McGregor message board about 4 years ago. It's been updated and tweaked:
When Fangirls Attack
Deep in the darkest sublevels of Coruscant's vast metropolis, the two Jedi Knights ran into a warehouse entrance and barricaded the door shut. Exhausted, the pair slumped down to the floor, panting.
"That was close," Obi-Wan said. "They almost got us that time!"
"What is with these women, Master?" Anakin asked. "Everywhere we go, they come chasing after us."
"Yes, all the while making that odd...noise."
"Squeee," Anakin mimicked. "What the blazes does that mean anyway?"
"It's their battle cry, I believe," Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I recall when I first heard it many years ago, back when I was still Master Qui-Gon's padawan. These women and girls, of all ages, sizes, species, would chase after us, all the while squeeing."
"They chased after Qui-Gon too?"
"Oh yes. They even wrote stories about us being more than just, um, Master and Padawan."
Anakin gaped at Obi-Wan.
"Don't worry, it's not true. Not that there's anything wrong with that!"
"Of course not." Anakin sighed. "The first few times it happened, I was sort of flattered. Now it's complete madness. The women expose their breasts, throw underwear at us, make all kinds of disgusting comments about our lightsabers, and now they're trying to climb me! Like I'm a tree or something!"
"Well, that's nothing. I never told you this before, but when I was in Count Dooku's custody on Geonosis, he had me tortured."
Anakin gasped, "He did? How?"
"He had me captured in a force field that left me completely vulnerable. He sent in an army of these so-called 'ladies' to run up and...grope me...as I floated in that force field."
"No! That devious son of a Hutt!"
"Mind your language, Anakin," Obi-Wan chided. "If it's not aggressive pursuit and molestation, it's trickery."
"The cookies," Anakin nodded. "It worked of course."
"Or the 'distress call' from the alleged princess who claimed to have been kidnapped by General Grievous. Hah! It was some teenage girl with an overactive imagination and too much time on the Holonet."
"What is it that draws these women to us?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "The Bothans call it 'kavorka,' the lure of the animal. We can't help it, Anakin. Women are drawn to us like fleas on a Wookiee. Thank goodness for our extensive training and meditation so that we can resist the temptation to dally with these poor souls and remain true to the Jedi Code."
Anakin broke into a fit of coughing. "Are you all right, Anakin?"
*Cough.* "Yes, I'm fine, er, Master." *Cough.*
"Wait...what's that?"
Anakin sat still listening. "Oh no! I hear marching! And it's coming nearer!"
Suddenly, they heard something chewing ferociously through the ferrocrete walls. "Plot bunnies!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.
"What's a plot bunny? Is it like a hoojib or something?"
"Just as cuddly but far more aggressive. They are the familiars of these fangirls and they are known to bite."
Reflexively, Anakin held on to Obi-Wan. "No, that just encouages them!" Obi-Wan exclaimed as he broke out of his former padawan's arms.
Before their unbelieving eyes, the cuddly but terrifying plot bunnies burrowed through the walls and a small army of shrieking women rushed into the warehouse chamber. Some even carried grappling hooks.
"Squeeeeee!" they shrieked as they rushed toward the hapless Jedi. Anakin and Obi-Wan looked at each other, not entirely sure what to do. They didn't want to hurt the estrogen-crazed mob after all.
Suddenly, a small figure rappelled down a cable from the roof. "Padmé!" the Jedi exclaimed.
The young Senator gracefully landed on the floor between the fangirls and the Jedi, shot a few bolts from her blaster into the air, then turned her attention to the crowd of rabid fangirls. "Ladies, please, can I have your attention?"
The fangirls quieted down.
"I have come to negotiate a truce between all of you and these gentlemen," she said. "Obi-Wan and Anakin have very important jobs to do for the galaxy and they can't do them if you're chasing them around all of the time. Yet, I understand why you have a crush on them." She glanced back at Anakin and winked. Obi-Wan, fortunately, failed to notice. "So, I thought about it and decided there is justification for using Republic facilities to bring an equitable solution to this problem. I'm going to allow you to order clones of your favorite Jedi, both if you wish, from our facitilies on Kamino. It will be expensive, but the credits will all go to charity. That way you have you can smear glitter on your own Jedi, you can climb him, pet him, have him do household repairs for you, whatever."
"Padmé," Obi-Wan interrupted. "Is this wise?"
"You have any better ideas?" she asked, impatient with Obi-Wan always questioning her actions.
Anakin shrugged. "It'll be weird having lots of me's running around, but if it stops the insanity, I guess."
"Good," Padmé said. "Ladies, you can start ordering your clones through my office tomorrow morning."
"Yay!" the fangirls cried. They rushed out of the warehouse to go get into line at Padmé's senatorial offices.
"You weren't serious, were you? Did you just say that to get them out of here?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Er, um, no, I was serious," Padmé said sheepishly.
Obi-Wan paled, realizing that not only will there be lots of fellow Obis, but lots of Anakins as well. One was more than enough to handle.
The End
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